


Timing Is Everything

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: MMOM, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After recovering from his gunshot wound, Blair develops an obsession, and it's driving Jim nuts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timing Is Everything

A little answer to the Merry Month of May masturbation challenge. This is my first Sentinel posting and I hope you enjoy this as much as Blair did. 

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit piece of fan fiction written for entertainment only. All Sentinel characters belong to Pet Fly Productions and Rysher Entertainment and no infringement of copyright is intended. Dedicated to all the writers of Slash who see the world as I do. 

Responses of all types may be sent to mlogick@hicom.net 

## Timing Is Everything

by Maigret  


Blair looked up and confirmed the time. It was the scientist in him that made him check to be sure but he had a more reliable barometer. For the past hour, it had become more uncomfortable to sit quietly with his erection pressing against the confines of the jeans. The laptop had been evicted from its usual perch about thirty minutes ago. The monograph he had been reading no longer held his interest. A part of him had studied this slow build-up, all aspects of the internal impulse that drove him to seek release at this time daily. With a soft sigh, he gave up on that line of unproductive thinking. Time was a precious commodity. He eased up from the couch. It was barely a week since he had been shot in the leg during Dawson Quinn's attempt to reclaim the 5 million he had stolen from the Federal Reserve and maneuvering with his crutches still challenged him. 

Blair entered the bathroom. Practice over the last few days had made him expert with this section of the procedure he thought ruefully. He angled his body so that he was balanced against an old drainage pipe while leaning on the wall in the space between the wash-stand and the tub. With a small hiss of pleasure he opened the top button of his jeans. The slight easing in pressure was an exquisite goad. If possible, he became harder. He almost always lost it here. The urge to hurry warred with the desire to spin the anticipation out for as long as possible. He eased the jeans' zipper down slowly. He gritted his teeth preaching patience to his fingers. 

Today he did better, and his cock was exposed slowly, very slowly. He wore no underwear. The hard shaft bobbed forward. Already there was pre-ejaculate at its tip. Blair tested it with his fingers and brought it to his mouth slowly. The guide's eyes slowly drifted shut and in his mind he saw Jim mimicking his actions, tasting him with his finger, rubbing the head of his penis and smoothing the escaping liquid along his length. Blair moaned, a needy raw sound. 

He had a collection of his favorite mind images that he cycled through, all of them featuring his sentinel touching him. Blair usually started with the tamer images of Jim touching his hair. He moved on to the scenes with the older man, holding his hand, his elbow, his shirt, pulling him out of a room, pushing him into a room. The pictures chasing across his mental screen moved quickly now as he experienced Jim with his arms around him, in different settings, in the loft while the sentinel was blinded, Jim holding him when he slammed into him full length after his escape from Rooker, the countless times Jim covered his body protectively. 

Blair's hand sliding along the slickness of his cock also sped up. He had saved three images which he replayed now. Jim wrapping his guide's torso, his hands moving all over his naked upper body as he wrapped his ribs after yet another unfortunate run in with a killer. Blair's hand moved faster and his tongue darted out to lick dry lips, his breath came in short pants, his hips thrust forward aggressively. He felt again Jim touching his upper thigh while they were both on the stakeout at the warehouse during the arson investigation. Easily he substituted reality for fantasy as he saw/imagined Jim sliding his hand up further freeing his cock and milking him to orgasm. With guttural moan, Blair's climax overtook him and he spurted into the waiting sink. The anthropologist always waited to hear Jim's key turn in the lock before playing the last image. It was a feeling more than anything else as he felt Jim's arm cradling him in comfort after his lunatic behavior in the station's garage when he ingested Golden accidentally. 

Jim slid the key in the lock. He would not turn it until he heard the last strangled gasp of release from his Guide. The heat of the pizza radiating from the box in his hands made it uncomfortable to wait, even with his touch receptors turned down. Five days ago, after Blair's release from hospital the sentinel had almost surprised the younger man with his early return to the loft. Jim promised himself not make that mistake again. If Sandburg felt that he had to do this minutes before Jim's arrival at the loft, then who was he to argue. Blair had to know that he could smell his pheromones and track the scent to the bathroom where he would be assaulted by the faintly musky odor of Blair's semen. 

Jim pressed his forehead against the door. He was unsurprised at his own erection. Maybe the kid was training him to his scent as he had educated him to utilize his sentinel senses fully. Whatever it was, all Jim knew was that within the last week as soon as he entered the loft, he would have to escape to the bathroom where he masturbated with the dispersing scent of Blair's pheromones providing stimulation. 

Suddenly Jim made a decision, he opened the loft door quietly and put the box down on the countertop near the entrance. He knew Blair's body as well as he knew his own. God knows he had touched it often enough. He had cradled Blair in his arms during that golden-induced craziness, he had felt the soft press of Blair's body when he had been injured while investigating the counterfeiting ring in Southtown and as recently as this morning, he had brushed against his young guide as Blair moved awkwardly around the kitchen making breakfast. Jim heard the soft splatters as Blair's semen pulsed out of him and slapped the porcelain basin. 

Jim threw open the bathroom door. His gaze missed nothing, from the hectic shade of arousal in Blair's cheeks, the surprised look that rounded his blue eyes to the short arcs the last few jets of come traced through the air, while his guide's capable hands milked his cock. 

Blair was in shock, a million fluttering thoughts blew through his mind. There was no explanation he could give that would not result in his being thrown out of the loft, into the street, on his ass in a few minutes. 

The young anthropologist could not even attempt speech. Jim smiled at his guide's shock, a toothy yet sultry smile, and somehow that smile coupled with the look in his eyes beamed straight to Blair's cock which began to harden again. Blair looked down in dismay, and looked up at his Sentinel panicked. Jim knew that Blair's glib talkativeness would return shortly. He had to act fast, before Blair broke into speech. Jim shut the bathroom door behind him and sauntered over to the shorter man. He covered Blair's hand gently, enfolding the rigid cock in the process. 

The sentinel captured Blair's eyes and murmured invitingly, "Ummmm, Chief, we need to talk." 

Blair turned his face up to Jim for their first kiss, "Yeah, man, but later... much later."   
  


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